


Patient 0801

by Jasminau



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Post TDK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24211828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jasminau/pseuds/Jasminau
Summary: The Joker arrives at Arkham Asylum after a week spent inflicting chaos throughout Gotham.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14





	Patient 0801

The clothes are rough, scratchy against his skin. He keeps playing with the hem, needing to do something with his hands as he tries to suppress all of this energy inside him. It feels a little odd with his nails cut down, he can’t even remember the last time he had cut them himself, but apparently it was a little precaution for any potential future events after he got a few  _ swipes _ in, though the dried blood at his fingertips only adds to this particular  _ giddiness _ he was feeling.

That’s right, he felt  _ giddy _ . So happy he could bounce off the walls.

His plan had gone  _ perfectly _ in a way he didn’t even anticipate. Everything had fallen into its designated place, coupled with a few drums of gas, some bullets, and sprinkled with a little —  _ a lot  _ — of chaos and  _ violà _ ! The whole city finds out the truth about its soul. And better yet,  _ Batman _ had done a little orchestrating himself.

And the look on his face when he found out Harvey Dent was Joker’s  _ ace in the hole _ was enough to send him into a spiral of manic glee. He just couldn’t stop  _ laughing _ , not when the SWAT team had dislodged Batman’s fancy little grapple gun from his foot —  _ he was sure that’d get infected soon  _ —, or after they had thrown him into the back of a SWAT van, or even when they had wheeled him into the famed Arkham Asylum. In fact, he was still giggling to himself now. His cheeks were starting to hurt, lips cracking from the constant laughter. 

This one pudgy doctor didn’t look very appreciative of that, —  _ well,  _ none  _ of them did  _ — but this one was particularly  _ unimpressed _ . At least, Joker thought that was the expression the doctor was going for. He couldn’t really  _ tell. _ Y’see, the doctor was sweating bullets that soaked the collar of his button-up shirt, and his face was about as red as half of Harvey Dent’s face —  _ hah _ . Not to mention, he nearly passed out right on the spot when Joker  _ pretended _ to lunge at him. The restraints on the chair made it hard to move even a little bit, and the sudden movement resulted in getting tazed by 3 of the guards, but seeing the  _ look _ on the doctor's face and the high-pitched squeal that left that pudgy mouth was  _ worth it _ . 

_ All of it _ was worth it. The Joker never really had any regrets, didn’t need to, but Gotham’s descent into pure chaos was his most prized achievement yet. Even all those vials of sedatives, or  _ whatever _ they had injected him with couldn’t keep this  _ high _ away from him. It had attached to his bones, fed into his muscles and he couldn’t tell if he was twitching in excitement or if it was just the residual effects from the  _ delightful _ shocks of electricity. Though tasing him wasn’t the only thing they had done to him.  _ Unfortunately _ , while they were hosing him down, they had cranked the temperature close to  _ boiling _ . Now, he wasn’t afraid of pain. He  _ liked _ it, a  _ lot.  _ But burns wasn’t in his list of favourites —  _ nope, not at all _ —, his skin felt like hot coal, it tingled in a way he couldn’t find any pleasure in. What he  _ could _ find pleasure in was beatings, and they had done plenty of that. He thinks his cackling displeased them a little, especially when they found he was getting more hysterical with every kick and punch, so much so that they made sure he was nearly choking on his own blood.

_ Well, he  _ was _ choking on his own blood _ .  _ Must have a broken rib, too. _

But after all of this, he couldn’t even get mad, couldn’t even feel a  _ slither _ of anger. The dark walls that caged him were painted with the events of the last week, deafening silence filled with sounds of screams, terror, gunfire, and explosions and he could still  _ smell _ all the gasoline. It made him  _ happy _ . 

And so he sat in this dark, cold room —  _ certainly not by  _ choice —, playing with the hem of these cute pajamas with blood-dried fingertips. Pajamas that were bright orange and had a little sticker that said ‘PATIENT 0801’.

_ Custom-made just for  _ him.

He couldn’t help but let it hit him right in his ego. Sure, it was scratchy and chafed against his burns in a way that was just…  _ uncomfortable _ , but these doctors knew exactly how to make ol’ Joker feel  _ special _ .

Provided, he had to show them how special he was in the beginning, that he wasn’t just some low-life criminal looking to bathe in money like the rest of them.  _ No, _ he was what Gotham  _ needed _ . A catalyst to show them all who they really were, what they were all so desperate to  _ hide _ . And he got there— 

_ Look at how well Harvey Dent turned out. _

_ — _ he just knew it might take a little more…  _ encouragement _ to get Gotham exactly where he wants them. 

_ Call it an encouragement to get out of  _ here _ as well. _

But this place would provide ample time to make a few  _ detailed _ plans. He just had to make his limbs work better first, though he was too caught up on the pure ecstasy of the week's events to even think about how he’d get out of here. Of course, he wouldn’t forget about the already-forming plans on how he’d  _ pay respects _ to all the doctors, nurses, and guards who’d stuck needles in him, wiped the makeup from his face or even  _ looked _ in his general direction. He kept all their faces running like a slideshow in the back of his head, but he left the  _ main event _ dialed up to ten that made it feel like he was at the theatre.

He was enjoying the show, too, and didn’t think his plans could’ve played out better if he tried. Everything had fallen into place. But the most entertaining, the elements that made his job so  _ enjoyable _ were the things he wasn’t expecting. Batman made sure of that. And the Bat had proven they were  _ meant _ for each other. Polar opposites fighting a battle for Gotham’s soul, and as much as Batman wanted to win, as  _ determined _ as he was to keep Gotham from itself, the Joker had won.

Nevermind that he was stuck in Arkham, he had planted the seed and now he’d watch it bloom. Even if he didn’t get front row seats. He was the puppeteer, not the audience, not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> just practising Joker's perspective and how his voice sounds. i know this is a little bad but ive been so busy and emotionally drained, and just got the urge to write smth


End file.
